


floating in space

by liamnoel



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest, Smut, THESE BOYZ ARE SO CUTE, reuploaded from lj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamnoel/pseuds/liamnoel
Summary: Liam visits Noel before an Inspirals gig.1992





	floating in space

**Author's Note:**

> reuploading all my stories to here because livejournal is owned by russia now or something and i'm not taking a chance on that

heavily inspired by this quote from paolo hewitt’s book (goddamn, i find something new to fixate on every time I reread it):

(the show it’s talking about was the inspiral carpets, supported by the real people; the “tony” mentioned is tony griffiths of the RP, not mccarroll, lol)  
  
i just couldn't get over how cute it was that liam went to VISIT noel when he was gone for only a couple WEEKS (he used to talk allll the time about how much he hated the inspirals...yet he still went to their gig HMMM)......

 

xxx

_all I want in life’s a little bit of love  
to take the pain away_

xxx

  
Somewhere in England, a train whizzes past green pastures where cows roam, decaying cottages, and occasional ponds of deep blue. You rest your head against the window, closing your eyes – it’s only another hour until you see him again.  
  
You haven’t slept in two days. The anticipation has been keeping you buzzing.  
  
It’s been a short tour, will only have been two weeks by the time it’s over, but every second without him feels like ages now, especially now you’ve got the band going.  
  
Exeter, Nottingham, Cambridge, Leeds, London, wherethefuckever; none of it matters, doesn’t matter where you are, because by the 7th he’ll be back in Manchester, where he belongs. With you.  
  


xxx

  
He meets you at the station (you’ve honestly got no fucking clue where you’re going), gives you a brief hug in greeting, clasps your arm. You have the overwhelming urge to hold him to you, bury your face in his neck, inhale. You have the urge to never let go.  
  
There are too many people around. Always too many people around.  
  


xxx

  
The two of you walk back to his hotel together. The gig’s not for four hours. Noel clears his throat and lights a cigarette and bumps your arm, asking, “How’s your bird?”  
  
_He always brings this shite up when we’ve been apart._ “I’ve sacked her.”  
  
“Oh, you’ve  _sacked_ her… someone else caught your eye, then?”  
  
_You know._ “Fuck off.”  
  
“Liam.”  
  
“Honestly, just fuck off, man, you–”  
  
“ _Liam._ ”  
  
You’re outside the hotel now. You glare at him before charging inside, punching on the elevator buttons with more force than is really necessary. You’re also trying not to laugh, and you can’t figure out how the fuck you’re even feeling.  
  
There are too many people around.  
  
“I’m only taking the piss, Liam.”  
  
_Ding_ , it says, floor 4. You think about taking the stairs.  
  
“I wouldn’t if I knew it’d upset you, y’know.”  
  
_Ding._ Floor 2.  
  
“You never really liked her anyway. I know.”  
  
The elevator slides open and you attempt to jam down the ‘close’ button the second you can reach it, but that twat gets his leg in before the doors can close again.  
He laughs, not his light, happy one, the one you love, but the cruel, biting one he uses when he’s out to get you. “It’s like you’re saving yourself for me or summat. You’ve gone soft, la.”  
  
You turn to him incredulously, mouth open, always ready to retort, fucking always, but–  
  
He slides close to you, close enough to breathe hot air right down your neck and whisper, “I never said that was a bad thing.”  
  


xxx

_wise men say  
only fools rush in_

xxx

  
You sit in the little understuffed armchair when you enter his room. You glance at the bed but can’t bring yourself to sit there; he’s only just arrived this morning but it’s unmade and you’re sure it smells of him.  
  
Noel sits on the bed.  
  
For two or three minutes you just sit there and stare at the wall – because there’s so much running through your head. Because there’s so much left unsaid. You  _want_  to get up and drape yourself over top of him on the filthy bedsheets and ask him why he kisses you with the same mouth he uses to lie; why sucking his cock makes you feel alive. Why he left after you shagged for the first time, and spent the night with Louise.   
  
You want to know why you’re his, but he’s not yours.  
  
You tune back in, hear the scraping of a razor from the bed.  
  
“Want a line?”  
  


xxx

  
He flicks on the TV. It’s on MTV, a Bon Jovi video – fucking Bon Jovi. American rubbish.  
  
“Turn that shite off, man.”  
  
He laughs – the happy one – and screws up his face, crooning, “ _You know you’re gonna live through the rayyyyyyeeeeayyyyn–”_  
  
“Noel!”  
  
He’s still singing along. You don’t know what to do, so you do one of the only things that feels natural anymore. You stride over to the bed, straddle your brother, and pull his face up to yours.  
  


xxx

  
“Slow down, kid.” He’s steering his head out of your grasp a millisecond after your lips meet.  
  
“Na, na, na, always on about something, you are. Don’t fucking  _wanna_  slow down.” You prop your arms up on the mattress, hovering above him.  
  
“There’s really better ways to bond than all this, y’know. Like, acting like normal brothers, for a start.”  
  
“ _Normal_ brothers,” you sneer, “When was we ever fuckin’ normal?”  
  
You see him gulp, the Adam’s apple bobbing just barely. “Before you knew how to make me come.”  
  
You gulp too. You can’t help it. “We can’t go back.”  
  


xxx

_i will love you till you die  
and i will love you all the time_

xxx

  
Noel stares at you, right in your eyes, for too many seconds and the coke’s diluting all your senses and it’s hours you swear it’s hours and days and weeks he looks at you just the way you’ve always wanted to be looked at by him and he don’t say nothing, not a word, and then he finally winds his arm around your waist, splays his hand on the small of your back, and flips the both of you over.  
  
He kisses you so softly, so gently you find yourself whimpering before you can hold back, and he’s laughing, but you know he loves it, loves making you lose control.  
  
You break away to breathe– “Tell me the truth.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Promise me you won’t lie.”  
  
“About  _what?_ ” he pants heavily, his lips so close you can nearly taste them, but you  _need_ to get this out.   
  
“How you feel about me. Us.”  
  
“Fuck, Liam, not now.”  
  
“Do I gotta ask  _nicely_?”  
  
He chuckles, now, pressing his lips to the side of your neck, teeth working ever so slightly. He’ll leave a mark. “Alright, I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t need you.”  
  
“Right.” He’s rubbing your back, under the shirt, and you’re starting to shiver, and you can barely focus on what he’s saying.  
  
“And I certainly don’t  _want_ you.”  
  
“Clearly.” Little teasing circles with his fingertips.  
  
“And while we’re on it, you–”  
  
You lean in real close now, enough to touch the tips of your noses.   
  
“You’re a fucking shit liar, Noely G.”  
  


xxx

  
The knock on the door sounds just as he’s pulling off his shirt. You sigh at the brief sight of his skin, before he pulls the shirt back on, scoffing as he gets up to answer whoever it is.  
  
You turn your ears way up, listen in. You couldn’t move even if you fucking tried, you’re still all blissed out from your earlier activities.  
  
Noel speaks first. “What’s up, man?”  
  
“We’re ‘eading down to the pub now, goin’ by a friend of a friend first, know what I mean? We’re all out.”   
  
It’s the guitarist from the Carpets, Graham or whatever.  _Shite name_. You smile from your place on the bed; thank God Noel has his own fucking stash for once.  
  
“Sorry, mate, I’m knackered. Gonna try to get some kip in. I’ll see you lads down there, though.”  
  
“Alright then, Noel.”  
  


xxx

  
He saunters his way back into the room. Looks fucking godlike. Your jeans are far too tight.  
  
“Good do it’s  _you_  with all the lovebites on your neck, not me. Would’ve been some fucking questions asked.”  
  
You try to look down at your neck, failing to do so, of course. “’ow many I got?”  
  
“Three.” He smiles at you. Too far away.  
  
“Come back to bed.” You feel dizzy, the way you feel when only he can make it better. He leans over you, knees at your hips, kissing at the bites on your neck.  
  
“Everyone at the gig’s gonna see these.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“They’ll think you’re some scally, running around shagging girls all day… but I’ll know.”  
  
“Mmm…”  
  
“Yeah, and you’ll know.” He licks over your jugular. You feel like you could sob. “We’ll both know it means you belong to  _me_.”  
  
His words energize you and without a second thought you’ve pushed yourself up, latching onto  _his_ neck. He doesn’t usually let you do this. But he’s moaning and lets you flip him over and slides his hands down, gripping you and grinding into you  _right_ where you need it. You’re panting and licking at the bruised skin of his throat and everything feels so, so right.  
  
“I love you,” you whisper into the bruise.  
  
He laughs. Such a beautiful sound. “Love you too.” It’s so simple. Like nothing could keep you apart. Like it’s just fucking obvious, you love each other, now and always and forever. And he’s marked up, now, which means he’s yours.  
  
Yours.  
  
You fumble around, pushing his shirt up to feel the skin of his chest; then he’s pulling yours up and off, and tugging you down to lie right on top of him. Pure bliss. So hard the denim is painful. Your thoughts are shared, now. Just the one common goal.  
  
The jeans get pushed down your hips, cold air hits your arse and you shiver. You’re being flipped once again – you resolve to stay this way before you get vertigo or summat. Your jeans gone now, his too.   
  
Noel presses his cock to yours and you groan so loudly, but nothing could stop you, he’d have to fucking choke you to shut you up. He’s rocking against you, pantomime fucking, his hardness sliding over your own. Your thighs are wet with his precum. Opening your eyes to look at him, you see his lips first, red and swollen from the attention. You figure you must look much the same. Good. Sultry and fucked-out and God, he’s not even  _inside_ you yet–  
  
“Fuck me, come on.”  
  
He shakes his head, still thrusting against you. “’aven’t got… any lube.”  
  
You lick your lips, looking him right in the eyes. “I have.”  
  
“Of course you’ve… for  _fuck’s_  sake, Liam.” He laughs and you know he’s laughing at you but you join in anyway, because fuck being angry at him. There’s not enough time. Even now you can hear the second-hand in your head tick tick ticking counting down till you have to go and watch  _his_ mates perform. Back on the outside, Noel hands you your knapsack; you pull out the small tube and throw it to him.  
  


xxx

_and float in space  
and drift in time_

xxx

  
You don’t let him use his fingers first, there’s no time for that, you insist. There isn’t. Every fiber of your body is devoted to getting him inside you as fast as you can. You only wish this could last forever.  
  
When his body meets yours, finally, you shudder and whine, Noel kissing your ear, then down to your collarbone, bite, suck, a silent  _you’re mine._  
  
He tilts your hips up before he sinks back in, again and again, grunting softly into your hair while you try desperately to hold onto sanity. He’ll drive you mad, he will.Hitting the spot every fucking time,  _come on,_ your leg wrapped around his back, pressing him in.  _Show me you mean it, fucker._  
  
As if hearing your thoughts, he pounds into you, like you’re unbreakable – you think you really might be. His nails are drawing blood on your upper arm, and there’s black-and-white patterns racing across the backs of your eyelids, dancing to the rhythm of Noel fucking you.  
  
“Please,” you choke out. Please what? Please anything. Anything to keep him here forever, never let you go.  
  
“Liam, look at me. Need you to…”  
  
You obey him, and nothing will  _ever_ beat the look on his face when your eyes meet and he moans and goes rigid and comes inside you, hips stuttering.  
  
“Noel, aaah…”  
  
He takes you in hand and you’re  _right_ there and gone and groaning at the feel of cum on your stomach, closing your eyes again, just imagining how it looks, a mess on his hand. Noel’s still inside you. In a sense, he always will be.  
  
When he pulls away, his cock slips out and you turn your head to the side. You feel empty now. And Jesus, you can feel his cum dripping out of you. It’ll stain the sheets.  
  
Suddenly his lips are at your ear. You think you might be asleep. “Hold on, I’ll get a towel.”

  
xxx

  
You must have dozed off because Noel’s poking at your stomach, making you laugh weakly. “Come on, lad, clean yourself up.” He tries to hand you the towel but you can’t lift your arm.  
  
Using the only bit of strength you feel you’ve got, you shake your head. “’m too tired…”  
  
Brushing your sweaty hair off your forehead, he whispers, “Have I actually fucked your brains out this time?”  
  
You open one eye to look at him. “Maybe.” And then you keep the eye open because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “’m sleepy. Lay with me, we don’t gotta be leaving till.. w’never… mmm.”  
  
Noel fits right into your side, kisses your temple. Your brother, your lover. The most important person on the planet, now and forever.  
  
And even though you’re dead tired, your thoughts are swirling round and round in your head and you manage to press your lips to his ear before you doze off, smiling sadly as you tell him,  
  
_Nobody will ever understand what we have._  
  


xxx

  
You meet a couple of brothers after the show, some lads from Liverpool. They were the support band, not that you give a fuck, because  _you’re_ the only band worth going on about, really.  
  
But Chris and Tony are nice enough, good for a laugh. These are the sorts of “normal brothers” Noel had been on about before, then. They don’t touch each other for longer than is necessary. You spend too much time watching them, and not once do their eyes meet across the room. You and Noel have done so about nineteen times already.  
  
Tony gets this look on his face when Noel introduces you, the one people give you sometimes when they first meet you. Like you’re a mystery, like they’re trying to figure something out about you. And like you’re a star. You just barely catch a look of envy from your brother while you shake Tony’s hand.   
  
You’re not sure if it’s directed at you or at Tony, but you have a pretty good guess.  
  
The night ends after only a few pints, because you’ve a train home to catch. Noel walks you there, but unlike your reverse journey just earlier today, his hand hovers near yours the whole way, and shortly before you arrive at the station he pushes you into a shadowy alley, up against the bricks so he can kiss you, his hands gripping your cheeks as if he can’t possibly let go.  
  
“Miss you,” you breathe into his mouth, even though he’s still here. He nods and it’s good enough for now. “Don’t forget about me.”  
  
You’re relieved to hear his laugh one last time. “How  _could_ I?”  
  
He waves at you from the platform, not quite smiling, but you know it’s there.  
  
You’re not sure if he’ll think of you tonight, but you have a pretty good guess.  
  


xxx

_i can’t help  
i can’t help falling  
falling in love with you._


End file.
